Page 61 of For Butter or Worse
Nina turned off her phone. She didn’t feel like explaining that this wasn’t actually the first time she’d been to his house, or that she and Leo were watching the greatest Halloween movie of all time with her favorite takeout food, or that Charlie had shown up at her door. The whole situation felt complicated, and what she wanted was to pretend like she didn’t have to figure out what this meant. Not yet, at least.
Especially because for the first time in a really long time, she felt relaxed. She was curled up on one end of the couch with her feet skimming the side of Leo’s pants, while he was sipping wine and grinning at the TV. It was all bizarrely...normal. Like something she used to do with Charlie.
But then again, if she’d been doing this with Charlie, he’d want to be watching an indie film. And takeout food would never happen—he hated the thought of all that packaging and eating nonorganic ingredients. He would have insisted on cooking.
Being with Charlie had never been easy, the way that Leo had made their night easy. Charlie viewed Nina as a kind of project. Like trying to perfect how to cook the best scrambled eggs—she was always too runny, too soft, overdone. Over their two-year relationship, he’d tried to mold her into the kind of chef he was: admired, singular and award-winning. When she deviated from his expectations of her, they fought. But then they’d make up, and the making-up part was why they worked for as long as they had. So being on Leo’s couch was the best thing for her—a reminder that she didn’t have to be miserable. Even if she actively had to ignore that espresso smell of his, and how it made her want to nuzzle her nose against his neck to get more. The last hour of eating, drinking and watching the best movie had felt like biting into a freshly baked cookie—warm and indulgent. Except for the dress, which was way too tight and getting tighter with every bite of food.
“You look...pained. There aremore dumplings, no need to despair.”
Were his eyes always this shade of Scotch brown?Gah, she really did have to stop noticing how cute he was, especially when he talked about food.
“I want more noodles, actually, but this dress...” She stood up and tried to pull down the bottom to see if that would give her a bit more wiggle room, which only made her outfit tighter.
She caught him staring at her, but then he nodded with fake empathy.Jerk, she thought, but she smiled, too.
“I imagine you sleep in head-to-toe black lace curled up in your cauldron, but if you want to give pajamas a try, I do have a spare pair,” he said while spooning more noodles onto her plate. “Or there’s always the witch hat.”
He was still wearing his costume, after all.
She considered her options: continue to be squeezed into her sausage casing of a dress, or change into the undoubtedly Hugh Hefner–esque pajama set from Leo.
“Fine, I’ll do it if you do it.” She placed her hands on her hips, trying to seem put out by his gesture. “But I get the silk and you get the bunny ears.”
“Kinky.” He waggled his eyebrows.
She rolled her eyes. So, okay, shewasin an alternate universe where she and Leo were having a movie night and she was about to wear his pajamas. Fine, her life had taken an odd turn, but could the day get any weirder?
“Little bats or cutesy pumpkins?” Leo held up two pairs of pajama bottoms, each with their own Halloween-themed animal motifs.
Yes, it had actually managed to get weirder.
“Bats, obviously.” She grabbed the black-and-white pants from Leo, along with a cotton shirt. Their hands brushed briefly, and a snap of static electricity shot through them. Or at least that’s what she assumed the spark was. She frowned at him, and he cocked his head in response.
She quickly walked through Leo’s bedroom, went into the bathroom and closed the door, taking a deep breath. She was in Leo’s bathroom, at his house, about to put on his pajamas. Their relationship now couldn’t be more different from how they’d actively avoided each other on set. Maybe because she’d entered this arrangement with absolutely no intention of impressing Leo, getting close to him was easier than she’d anticipated. She hadn’t felt the need to act a certain way around him. She’d just decided to be herself—he could take or leave her.
And as it turned out, he didn’t appear to mind who she was—all the qualities Charlie had made her hide, Leo seemed to accept.
She turned toward the sink and began to investigate the products there—electric toothbrush, toothpaste, a dopp kit. She wondered what he might be hiding in his above-the-sink cabinet. For sure, there had to be beard oil—he seemed the type. There was a 50-50 shot that he owned bronzer, because no one had cheekbones that defined without a little help. And probably a weird surprise—human teeth?
She quietly opened the cabinet and took a quick glance. Band-Aids, moisturizer, a variety of combs and a full prescription bottle for Prozac.
Leo had casually mentioned panic attacks, but he’d said he used to have them. She shouldn’t be snooping. His personal life wasn’t any of her business. Yes, they’d shared things about themselves, but that didn’t mean she had a right to keep asking questions.
She closed the cabinet and cringed when it made a loud bang. She clenched her teeth and waited to see if he’d heard. When she was greeted by silence, she started changing into the pajamas. Only, she realized there was an impossible-to-reach zipper on her dress.
She huffed out a sigh—thiswas how she’d die someday. Trapped in a designer dress, unable to tear it off, until it cut off her circulation and she collapsed.
But she had Leo nearby, so today wasn’t going to be her time. She opened the bathroom door to call for help, but before she could say a word her breath caught in her throat. Leo was just outside the door, and he was shirtless. His arm flexed against the sleek white top of his dresser as he stared into the open drawer. He was clearly searching for a shirt, as his devil suit had mysteriously vanished.
And she just went ahead and stared at his arms, chest, shoulders and back, because that’s what she wanted to do—especially after the last glass of wine she’d had. She’d seen him shirtless once before, on their hike, so the sight of him shouldn’t have felt so new, but it was like seeing him for the first time all over again. She let her gaze linger over how the muscles between his shoulder blades emphasized his strong back, and the tricep that flexed as he straightened his arm. A small, parched noise escaped her lips, and he looked up.
She coughed, trying to cover the sound.
Leo turned. “You’re supposed to be in pajamas.”
You’re not supposed to look this fucking good.
“The problem is the dress. Not built for food or unzipping. I was wondering if you could, um...” She turned and motioned toward her back, where the zipper was.
